Distractions
by Missah J
Summary: Over the years, Draco Malfoy is constantly distracted by Hermione Granger.


Distractions

By: Slytherclaw Coffee Ninja

_Written for Kore-of-Myth's Shuffle Challenge_

_I do not own any of these songs._

**Glittering Cloud**

He knew the second that the words had come out of his mouth that he had hurt her.

He truly hadn't meant to say it. It had just slipped out. All around him, people were congratulating him on really getting to the Gryffindor, and yet, he wanted more than anything to tell her that he was sorry. That he didn't mean it.

Years later, he realized just how much that moment had influenced the two of them. After that, any hope of her understanding him, of realizing that he was more than just a pureblood rich kid, of understanding that he was a real person – was gone.

In some ways, he supposed that perhaps, she had given him a little too much credit. That she had seen him as a force that needed to be stopped, something worth fighting against.

In truth, he didn't even know what he was fighting for.

* * *

**Requiem for a Dream**

When Snape had grabbed his arm, telling him that they needed to get away from there as fast as possible, and trying to reassure him that he was going to be alright, that he wasn't going to die just quite yet, he couldn't help but notice that the entire school seemed to be in mourning.

The dream of a Voldemort-free world had long been dead, and it seemed as though it had only just struck the corridors of Hogwarts. The dream of a sanctuary, of a place where witches and wizards could be safe, was dead.

Nothing was safe anymore, and he knew that.

But even as Snape forced him away from the school, he couldn't help but think about the way that she felt about this – about the death of dreams that so many had carried in their hearts for so long. Perhaps she would hate him even more, thinking that it was his fault. That his purpose had been to kill the dreams of everyone there – that he was no less than a monster.

He himself half-believed it. Even if it hadn't been entirely his fault – he had helped.

He supposed that someday, he would hate himself for what he had done, for pushing her completely out of his life.

But, then again, that dream had been dead a long time ago.

* * *

**The Beginning is the End is the Beginning**

He can see it all around him.

People are dying.

Anarchy is breaking out.

Those who do not follow the Dark Lord will be abolished.

The world is burning.

He would stay up late every night, hoping that she was alright, wherever she was. That her friends were taking care of her – he knew that the Snatchers were looking for her. He himself had been questioned, and had given them false information – telling them that she was somewhere in Wales. They knew his parents, so they knew he had known her at Hogwarts.

He knows that she would not care that he had tried to protect her, despite the fact that every night he was perturbed by the fact that they were looking for her, and that he wanted to save her.

"_Does it make you happy that you've done this?" he would ask her, and despite all that he thinks, and knows she will have to do to just stay alive, she would say:_

"_Yes." _

* * *

**Mitternacht**

He wasn't sure what time it was.

Then again, he didn't care.

All he could hear was her screams. Her refusal to say anything to them; in a way, he admires her for that. For keeping her mouth shut, for staying so loyal to her friends.

He's tried closing his eyes, looking away. But they want to show him what happens to those who crusade for justice, who fight against the Dark Lord. He doesn't want to see that his aunt is slowly killing her. He doesn't. He wants to forget that she's writhing in pain. He wants to forget about her existence.

And yet, he can't.

He can't forget about her admirable loyalty, or the fact that she's willing to die if it means stopping them.

His aunt hasn't shown him an ungrateful, evil mudblood.

She's shown him a hero.

* * *

**Through Glass**

Standing on the platform, he realized that it was the first time that he had properly seen her in almost twenty years.

He thinks that it feels as though it's been forever – he certainly knows that he looks much older than he was when he last saw her. He feels and looks as though he's aged a few more years than two decades.

He can't help but feel as though he's looking at her through a glass window – that what he's seeing on the other side isn't tangible. That what's there isn't real.

And yet, seeing her there, she seems more real than she ever did during their years at school. She's aged, but to him, she still looks seventeen. She's still the person that fascinated him that kept him up at night thinking, considering, and analyzing.

The person he denied feelings for, because he knew that even if she returned his feelings, they would never be together. It was something that he had realized a long time ago.


End file.
